


Nepenthe

by cygnaut



Series: Try, Try Again [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Apocalypse, X-Men: Days of Future Past
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Amnesia, Feral Behavior, First Time, M/M, No Underage Sex, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, The "Good" Alternative Timeline, Weapon X Project, the first part starts in the 80s but there's no romance till later, this story is pretty much three cliches in a trench coat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/pseuds/cygnaut
Summary: "This kind of happens to you a lot."Over the years, Scott has a lot of experience helping Logan with amnesia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaughtyAnne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyAnne/gifts).



1986

By the time Scott graduated and became an official, full member of the X-Men, he had a lot of practice being kidnapped. The others joked that it wasn't a real mission unless he got captured at some point. So he wasn’t completely unprepared when a mission gone wrong ended with him being knocked out and grabbed by a squad of rabidly anti-mutant commandos operating without official sanction. He wasn't nearly as frightened as he had been the first time, when Sabertooth tackled him in a classroom and dragged him to Three-Mile Island, but it still wasn't fun to wake up in captivity. 

While Scott was unconscious, the military goons had put some kind of metal device around his head which locked in place, blinding him. It must have been lined with ruby quartz because his eye beams were useless. They also tied a bag over his head for good measure, adding insult to injury.

Scott was thus completely blind when they hustled him into an echoing building that he assumed was some kind of military base. There were heavy footsteps all around and loud, male voices saying crude things and generally trying to be intimidating. 

Scott ignored all that and tried to get a sense of the layout as they dragged him around by his armpits. The bonds holding his wrists tied behind his back felt like plastic, probably zip ties, which was good since they would be relatively easily to break out of. The soldiers had put them on too tight and Scott's hands were already starting to throb in pain. 

Eventually they stopped walking and Scott was thrown onto the floor like so much garbage. A metal door slammed loudly behind him. He lay still and listened for a long moment before deciding that they'd left him alone. He must be in a prison cell. 

As Scott sat up, a soft scuffle echoed nearby. Someone else was in the room with him. 

Scott held very still and waited. The bag over his head muffled his hearing somewhat, but after a moment he could make out the sound of soft breathing somewhere to his left. 

"Hello?" he asked. 

The person moved with a shuffling sound like they were pushing themselves across the floor, but didn't say anything in response. 

Scott swallowed. "Who's there? I'm not going to hurt you, I'm a prisoner too." 

There was a cough, almost a bark like a dog might make, and without any warning the person sprang on top of him. Scott shouted and tried to roll away, but on his stomach with his hands tied behind his back he couldn't get any leverage. There was a strong smell of sweat, like the person on top of him had gone a long time without bathing. Whoever it was hit him hard in the center of his back, taking Scott's breath away as a heavy weight pressed down and pinned him in place. 

"Please don't—" Scott gasped when he could breathe again, nearly choking on the unwashed scent. "I swear I'm not—"

The other person pressed down on Scott's back, putting pressure on his chest and making it harder to breathe. With the bag covering his mouth and nose it felt horribly like suffocating. Scott struggled to keep his panic under control. Was this a trick? Maybe it wasn't another prisoner at all but a guard left to torture him. He could hear the other person breathing heavily and sniffling like he had a cold. Scott was pretty sure it was a man based on the strength in the limbs holding him down and the sharp smell of his sweat. 

To his relief, the weight on his chest lifted and Scott could breathe again as the man eased off somewhat. It felt like he was straddling Scott's back, his knees on either side of his shoulders. It was a hard position to fight your way out of, so Scott held still and waited to see what the other man would do. 

Hands fumbled over Scott's forearms, making him jump. The man must be twisted around reaching behind him. Scott tensed, wondering what he was doing until the man found the ties holding Scott's hands behind his back. He ran his fingers under the plastic, testing the tension and rubbing at the tender spots where the bands had bruised Scott's wrists. 

There was an odd sound like a knife cutting through raw meat and then a snip as the zip ties loosened. That was a shock. Scott didn't find it very comforting that the man had a knife, although it _was_ nice to have his arms free. Scott lowered his hands to his sides with relief, flexing as the tingling eased and the blood rushed back into his fingers. 

The man stayed over him for a long moment. He pressed what felt like a fist into the center of Scott's back and held him down like a warning. _Don't mess with me, I'll take you out._

Scott felt the man's head touching the back of his neck as he leaned down and breathed in deeply before abruptly letting go of him and getting up. Scott heard soft footsteps, but the man didn't go far. He could still hear him breathing a few feet away. 

Scott sat up slowly and rubbed at his wrists. "Uh, thanks," he said. There was no reply. 

Scott touched his face and felt through the fabric, trying to make sense of the metal device wrapped around his head. It felt like a heavier version of his visor, but clamped too tightly and locked in place somehow. He might be able to slip it up over his ears if there was enough give. 

The sound of the man moving closer startled him. Scott backed away until he bumped into a wall, but the man kept coming. "Wait—"

A hand went around Scott's neck, making him freeze in terror. The man didn't squeeze, but Scott could feel how easily he could crush his windpipe. "Oh god, please don't murder me." 

Scott could feel hot breath on the side of his neck as the man _sniffed_ at him. Scott held still, listening as the man fumbled around him breathing heavily. There was a painful tug at Scott's hair and he flinched away only to hit his head against the wall. "Ow!" 

The man made a low, rumbling hum that was almost _thoughtful._ The hand around his throat let go, and Scott felt pressure around his temples and the rustle of fabric as big hands felt around the top of the bag. The man grunted and there was a loud ripping sound that made Scott gasp. 

The man pulled a few strands of Scott's hair out as he tore the bag open, but Scott was too relieved to have the fabric off of his face to care. The cool air felt so good, like he could finally breathe properly again. It also made Scott realized that he _wasn't_ completely blind. There was a thin window of ruby quartz on the front of the device which let Scott see a narrow sliver of the outside world. How thoughtful of his captors not to blind him completely. 

Scott finally got a look at his fellow prisoner. Crouched in front of him was a man with bushy, dark hair sticking up all around his face. The only thing he was wearing was a torn pair of pants that looked like they hadn't been washed in a very long time. Well, that matched the smell. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but there was something about his face that was oddly familiar. 

Scott struggled with the remaining fabric around his neck until the wild man batted his hands away and tore it off himself. "Um, thanks again," Scott said, rubbing his neck. "Do I… know you?"

The man squinted at him, but made no sign that he understood. 

"Still not talking, huh? Okay." Scott pushed himself up to stand, wanting to be on his feet now that he was freed. "So where are we?" 

The wild man backed up and raised his hands defensively, making two fists. 

"Whoa, relax," Scott said and held his hands out to him. "I just want to take a look around." 

The man only became more agitated at that. He raised his fists and made a deep, low noise in the back of his throat. The guy was _growling_ at him. Scott lifted his hands above his head and backed away from him. 

There was a slick sound and the man's fists malformed as three sharp points grew out of the knuckles on both hands. The points glinted in the light from the cell's single window like they were made of metal. The guy growling at him had _knives_ in his _hands._

Scott backed up as far as he could. "Oh god, I'm sorry. _Please_ _don't murder me_." 

The man growled again but stayed where he was. He watched Scott warily for a long moment before slowly retracting the long blades back into his hands. Scott could see dark blood dripping from his knuckles onto the floor. 

This was so messed up, but it was also weirdly familiar. Scott finally placed where he had seen the man before. "Hold on, you're that guy Jean freed! The one Stryker had locked up— _Weapon X!_ " 

The wild man flinched back and stared at Scott with wide eyes. For a split second he looked afraid—just long enough for Scott to regret bringing it up before the man snarled and launched himself at him. 

Scott managed to get his arm up in time to prevent the wild man from throttling him. Instead, he slammed Scott hard against the cement wall and growled in that inhuman way that made Scott's blood freeze in his veins. "Sorry," Scott shouted. "I didn't mean to, I swear I'm not one of them!"

The man growled again and bared his teeth in a way that suggested Scott's words weren't getting through. He pushed Scott hard into the wall and then backed up a step so he was hovering threateningly in front of him. Scott dropped his head and tried to make himself small. He shrank down to sit on the cold floor while keeping his arms up protectively around his head. 

The man snorted and scuffed his bare foot over the ground, kicking a loose bit of concrete in Scott's direction but not actually hitting him. Scott must have looked satisfyingly humbled, because the man backed off to the opposite side of the cell. He crouched in a corner and continued to glare suspiciously at Scott from there. 

"Sorry," Scott said. "I'm not here to hurt you." He tried desperately to remember their previous encounter at Stryker's prison. Jean had been able to get through to the man somehow, but she had the advantage of being telepathic. At least the man wasn't covered in weird electronics this time. Whatever was wrong was his mind must be the result of Stryker's brainwashing. 

Jean had called the man something. She'd said his name in their heads right before he ran off into the wilderness alone. Scott tried desperately to remember what she had said. It was something sort of… old fashioned and kind of rustic. Like Jack, or Lawrence. Or... Lon? Definitely something with an L, like maybe—

"Lucas!" Scott said, nearly shouting it in his excitement. 

The wild man blinked and gave him a strange look, like he was worried for _Scott's_ sanity. 

"No, not that—" Scott amended quickly. " _Logan._ " 

That had the intended effect, making the man sit up straight like Scott had finally said something in a language he understood. 

"That's your name," Scott said, pointing at him. "You're Logan!" 

The man coughed and furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth and seemed to be concentrating hard for a long moment before he managed to croak out, "...yeah." 

"Yeah!" Scott agreed. It made the man—Logan—seem considerably less intimidating now that Scott had a name for him aside from "Weapon X." He also seemed less tense, although he stayed crouched in the corner of the cell. 

Scott kept talking to him even though it wasn’t clear if Logan could understand him. He talked about possible ways they might escape, most of them unlikely to succeed. Even if Logan wasn’t following, it was helpful for Scott to think out loud. 

Logan still didn't have anything to say in response aside from that single "yeah," but he seemed to be paying more attention to Scott's words now, like maybe he was remembering English. Likely it had been a long time since anyone had tried to carry on a conversation with Logan rather than just yelling orders or attacking him. 

Their best chance was probably jumping the guards the next time they opened up the cell. Scott wouldn't be much help without access to his eye beams, but Logan was a walking nightmare with knives in his hands. There was at least a _chance_ they could escape. 

There were no windows to indicate the time of day, but Scott grew tired eventually and decided to get some sleep. He lay down facing the door and used his arm for a pillow. It wasn't very comfortable, but sleep deprivation would only make it harder to plan a way out of here. 

Scott woke up hours later disoriented and cold. His side ached from lying on the hard floor. He sat up and pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to minimize how much of his body was touching the cold cement. He felt a little warmer after rubbing his arms and tucking his head down over his knees, but he desperately wished there was a cot or at least a blanket in the cell. The guards had taken away his uniform jacket, leaving Scott with only a thin undershirt, which wasn't much good against the cold. 

Logan must have heard Scott moving because he got up from his corner and came to sit next to him. He sat close enough that his side was pressed against Scott, a welcome wall of warmth even if the stench was off-putting. Scott shifted closer to him and Logan brought his arm up around his back, strong fingers gripping his shoulder and rubbing the goosebumps away on his upper arm. 

"How long have you been in here?" Scott asked, not expecting an answer. "Must have sucked to be all alone." 

Logan gave no sign that he understood, and Scott put his head down on his knees and tried to go back to sleep. 

When Scott woke next, it was to the sound of metal scraping and clanging in the distance. He jumped up with his heart pounding and found Logan crouched down next to the door. Scott rushed to stand across from him on the other side and they both listened intently as heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. 

"If they come in here—" Scott whispered. 

Logan touched his finger to his mouth and motioned for Scott to get down. They waited in tense silence as the noise outside grew closer. The guards were talking to one another, but Scott couldn't make out what they were saying. Would they open Scott and Logan's cell? Would they get a chance to escape?

The bolt in the door released with a bang that made Scott nearly jump out of his skin. Logan held up his hand, signaling for Scott to wait as the door slid in its track and rolled open with a screech of metal. There was a long pause. Both of them waited and stared at the yawning doorway, unable to see what was on the other side from their position. 

A hand edged its way into view, crossing the threshold and waving a baton with two sharp prongs on the end. A spark of static jumped between the prongs and Scott realized it was electrified. "Where are you, animal?" the guard asked. "Did you eat the kid?" 

Logan roared in response and dove at the guard, slamming him into the side of the door. The guard was ready for his attack and brought the baton up into Logan's side where it crackled with a spray of vivid, purple sparks. 

Scott used the guard's distraction to kick him in the back of the elbow. He received a shock in the process, but the guard dropped the stun baton. Logan screamed and bashed the guard's head against the ground before leaping past him to attack someone else outside. Scott checked that the first guard was incapacitated—he had a pulse, but was unconscious and it looked like Logan had fractured his skull. 

By the time Scott existed the cell, there was blood painted all over the walls and a severed hand holding a gun on the floor. "Oh my god," Scott said.

"Oh my _god_ ," Scott said again as he bent down to pick up the handgun from the slack, severed fingers. It was a M1911A1 with a full magazine, suggesting that Logan had cut off the man's hand before he had the chance to pull the trigger. 

Gunfire echoed further down the hallway along with Logan's roars of rage and pain. Scott followed the sounds tentatively, not really wanting to run into Logan while he was slaughtering everyone in the building. Scott could only see directly in front of him because of the limited opening on the visor, and it was frightening to walk down the halls without any peripheral vision. At least it made it easier for Scott to avoid looking at the bodies.

The last time Scott had seen Weapon X unleashed, Logan had cut his way through Stryker's men like they were a bunch of Cub Scouts. This time was no different. When Scott finally found the base's control room, it was completely empty except for a lot of blood and gore. 

Scott adjusted the channel on the base radio and tapped out a distress code while trying not to register the organs littering the floor around him. Hopefully the rest of the X-Men were somewhere nearby and would be able to get here quickly to rescue him. Scott _really_ didn't want them to run into Logan unprepared, so he followed the trail of blood further into the base. He still had the gun, at least, not that it would do him much good if Logan decided he was an enemy. 

The gunfire and screaming had died down by now and it took Scott a few minutes to find his way through the maze of hallways to a depot full of Jeeps and other military vehicles. Several of the parking spots were empty and one of the garage doors was open, suggesting a few of the soldiers had managed to escape. Scott walked to the open door and stared out at the bleak terrain. They were in the middle of a pine forest with no sign of nearby civilization. He wondered if Logan had run off into the wilderness again. 

Scott was peering through the windshield on one of the Jeeps when he heard a ragged gasp at the far end of the garage. He ducked down and walked cautiously around the cars toward the sounds. He could hear panting and an occasional low whine of pain. 

Logan was lying on the floor behind a Jeep, completely covered in bullet wounds and blood. It looked like someone had emptied an entire machine gun belt into him. That was probably how the few remaining soldiers made enough time to escape. 

Logan jerked upright when he caught wind of Scott and raised his left hand in a flash of sharp blades. He struggled to his feet, growling and lashing out even though he was much too far away to reach Scott. There was something wrong with his right arm and it hung loose and useless at his side.

Scott dropped the gun and put his hands in the air. "Oh god, don't murder me, we're friends remember?" 

Logan snorted and stumbled past him, ignoring Scott and holding his damaged arm against his body. He ran headlong into the wall behind them, jarring his injured shoulder and snapping it back into place in its socket. 

"Uh, I could have helped you with that," Scott said. "But I'm glad you're… okay." 

Logan lowered himself to the ground with his back against the wall. He sat in a crouch and panted as his ruined body put itself back together. Scott could see his wounds healing, skin knitting together over exposed bone and dark splotches of bruises fading away in seconds. Bullets popped out of his skin like change from a vending machine and clattered to the ground all around him. 

"My team will probably be here soon," Scott said. "You know, if you want a ride." 

Logan didn't seem to register that, which made Scott nervous about what would happen when the others arrived. Hopefully Logan would remember Jean or she would be able to calm him down telepathically. It was going to be really messy if they had to fight him. Scott also didn't particularly want to hurt the guy who had helped him escape. 

Thankfully, Logan was fully healed and mostly calm by the time the Blackbird touched down in the empty field outside. Scott walked out cautiously with his hands held in front of him, signalling to the others to be careful in how they approached. 

Scott had found a blanket for Logan to wear and cleaned some of the blood off of his face so he looked slightly less terrifying, but Hank and Kurt still looked startled when they came down the ramp to greet them. 

"Hi, um, remember Logan?" Scott asked. "From when we were kidnapped by, uh," he mouthed _Stryker_ , being careful Logan couldn't hear what he was saying. "He's not very talkative." 


	2. Chapter 2

2003

Of all the things Scott expected to find when he went looking for mutants in small town Idaho, a drunk and surly Wolverine was the last thing on his list. Admittedly, Van Rena looked like the sort of place Scott could imagine Logan inhabiting, although it was a few hundred miles too far south of Alberta. Still, Logan was certainly the last thing Scott _wanted_ to find. 

Logan was sulking in a dark corner and didn't make any acknowledgment of Scott's entrance, although he looked right at him. Scott pretended not to notice while he made small talk with locals at the bar and tried to ask subtly if anything strange had happened lately. 

Earlier that week, Cerebro had a faint hit in the vicinity of Van Rena. There was some suspicious police activity in the area, but not enough to warrant an expedition by the entire team. They were stretched thin at the moment—in part because Logan had unilaterally extended his vacation without asking—and Scott had decided to scout out the area himself while the rest of the X-Men were busy elsewhere. At least if Logan was here he would have some backup if anything untoward was going on. More than likely, the blip from Cerebro was somehow Logan's fault, but he hadn't bothered to tell anyone where he was so they would know that. 

After Scott spent some time making himself conspicuous to the locals, he ordered a beer and two fingers of rye whisky and went back to the table where Logan was sitting. Logan was wearing a dark flannel shirt and jeans. He blended into his surroundings so well that he almost disappeared into the crowd of other, similarly dressed men. It was like he was varnished with the same lacquer as the wood paneling on the walls, and weathered by the same harsh climate. Scott knew for a fact that Logan had only arrived in Van Rena recently, but he wouldn't have guessed it to look at him. 

Scott put the whisky in front of Logan and kept the beer for himself. "Real nice place you found here," he said, glancing around the dim interior as he took a seat.

Logan squinted at him in bad humor. "What's this for?" he asked, indicating the whisky. 

Scott shrugged. "You were finished," he said, pointing to Logan's empty glass. 

Logan frowned, but took a sip. It was Canadian Club Reserve, which Scott knew was a favorite of his. Logan’s face shifted in reluctant appreciation as he tasted it, clearly feeling indebted to Scott and not liking it. Scott suppressed a smile. It honestly felt good to see him again, even if Scott was still annoyed about his disappearing act. Logan fit in here much better than Scott ever could, and the surroundings suited his rough, woodsman charm. 

“Thanks," Logan grumbled. "I guess."

"Don't say I never got you anything," Scott said. 

Logan gave him a weird look and set the glass down. "I ain't seen you before, you new around here?"

"Uh… yes," Scott said, wondering what was up with the act. Was someone watching them? Maybe he was interrupting Logan on a stakeout or something. "Just arrived today."

"Not a lotta work in Van Rena, but there's a lumber mill a few miles up the road."

"Yeah…" Scott said. "Isn't there some kind of canning plant too?"

"Closed," Logan said, and took a drink. 

"Hm..." Scott looked around the room and tried to figure out why Logan was being cagy. No one else seemed to be paying any attention to them, and there weren't any surveillance cameras. 

The X-Men had a number of code phrases they used to verify their identity or indicate if they were under duress, but Scott decided to try a more direct route. “You’ve been to Westchester, right?” 

Logan frowned like he’d never heard of the place. “That in Montana?”

"No, it’s—uh, a little further east.”

"Never heard of it before," Logan said. "You're kind of a weird guy." 

"I guess so…" It was dawning on Scott that maybe Logan wasn't _pretending_ not to know him; maybe something was actually wrong with him. He hadn't returned to the mansion when his leave was up two weeks ago, but that wasn't that unusual for Logan. It _was_ unusual that he hadn't let any of them know where he was, or at least sent a postcard. He'd missed a party the kids had planned, and Scott had to explain to Marie that it wasn't anything she’d done; sometimes Logan was just unreliable. Scott had been annoyed about it at the time, but now he felt a wave of guilt that they hadn't looked harder into Logan's disappearance. 

Scott leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but please would you knock it off. You're starting to scare me." 

Logan blinked slowly and leaned back. "Kid, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, shit," Scott said. He slumped back in his chair. Did Logan have amnesia again? Had something happened to him? Was this a symptom of Stryker's experimentation returning to screw with his brain years later? 

Logan set his glass down and stood up. "Gotta take a leak," he said, undoubtedly looking for an excuse to escape from Scott. 

"Okay," Scott said weakly as Logan turned to go. How the hell was he supposed to explain to Logan who he was? If he started going on about the X-Men he'd come off like a nutcase. A bar also wasn't the best place to be talking about how they were part of a secret group of mutant vigilantes. 

Logan ambled across the barroom with his usual, lazy stride. Scott found that vaguely comforting; some part of his personality must still be intact even if his more recent memories were gone. 

Logan paused for a long second when he reached the bathroom door, like maybe he felt Scott's eyes on him. He glanced over his shoulder and made eye contact with Scott before he stepped inside. 

Scott continued puzzling over what to do before abruptly realizing that the bathroom might be his one chance to talk to Logan alone tonight. He jumped up and hurried across the bar. 

Logan was standing at the urinal when Scott burst in the bathroom door. "Uh, sorry," Scott said, glancing around to make sure the stalls were empty. 

Logan snorted. "Took you long enough."

Scott blinked, "Huh?"

Instead of answering, Logan raised an eyebrow and stared at him, seemingly waiting for something from Scott. 

"Uh, listen," Scott said, plowing ahead before he got nervous and decided not to say anything. "This is going to sound crazy—" Crap, why did he start like that? That only made him sound _crazier_. 

"Try me," Logan said. He zipped up his pants and stepped past Scott to the sink. 

"I know who you are," Scott said. Logan snapped his head around at that, looking startled. "I mean, I know you. We're—friends."

Logan reached out and grabbed Scott by the collar, roughly dragging him in close. There was a familiar _snikt_ as he shoved Scott against the bathroom wall and pointed his claws at his face. Scott could have broken free of his hold, but he didn't want to hurt Logan or scare him into hurting _him._

"Who the fuck are you!?" Logan snarled. 

Scott held up his hands and ignored the three very sharp blades inches from his throat. "Sorry, I wasn't sure how to tell you—"

"What do you want?" Logan snapped, pushing his claws closer until they touched the side of Scott's neck. "Who sent you?"

"Nothing, nobody!" Scott said. "Please don't stab me. I was on a mission and when I saw you I thought—"

"Mission?" Logan asked, zeroing in on the word with suspicion. 

"No, I mean, not to find you or anything…" Scott took a deep breath and reached out tentatively to touch Logan's wrist. Logan narrowed his eyes, but didn't lash out at him. "I don't know what happened to you, but I can help." 

Scott pushed at Logan's fist, turning it away until his claws were no longer pointed at him. Logan watched him closely, but stepped back slightly and loosened his grip on his shirt. 

Scott wet his lips. "Let me help you, Logan." 

The muscles in Logan's jaw tightened. He stared at him like Scott's face was a puzzle that he could solve if he just looked at it long enough. He let out a small breath as he came to a decision and released Scott's collar. He lowered his fist but kept his claws out, watching warily as Scott rearranged his shirt. 

"Thanks," Scott said. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to freak you out, but I didn't know how else to tell you." 

Logan cleared his throat and looked shiftily from side to side. "You don't seem… surprised," he said, raising his hand and motioning at his claws. 

"I've seen them before," Scott said. "A lot." He'd even had them pointed at his head a few times. 

"...Logan?" Logan asked, speaking slowly like he was testing the word out.

"Yes?" Scott said. "Oh, right, that's your name."

"Huh," Logan said. "I've been going by Jim."

"Do you… want me to call you that?"

Logan shook his head. "No, I'm not real attached to it. Okay, Logan." 

"I'm Scott, by the way. Scott Summers." 

"Nice to meet ya," Logan said. 

Scott nodded. "Likewise. I'm glad you're okay. You've been AWOL for two weeks, but we weren't sure if something had gone wrong or if you were just running late." 

"Huh." Logan cleared his throat. "You with… special forces?"

Scott touched the side of his visor. "Do I look like I'm in the military?"

"You'd be surprised…" Logan said. "You sure _act_ like it." 

"Well, I'm not. We're more of a… paramilitary force. Listen, this isn't really the place to be having this conversation." In a bathroom. In a seedy bar. In the middle of nowhere Idaho. "Are you staying somewhere around here?"

Logan furrowed his brow and gave Scott an assessing look. "I got a room. Why?"

"Okay, let's go there and I'll tell you everything once we have some privacy." 

Logan squinted. "Everything, huh?"

"Everything I know about you," Scott said. "I promise."

Logan shrugged and finally retracted his claws. He opened the bathroom door and walked out. Scott took that as assent and followed Logan to their table where he threw back the last of his whisky. Logan acted completely casual about it, standing with one hand in his pocket like he hadn't just flipped out and nearly stabbed Scott in the bathroom. 

Scott paid for their drinks, figuring Logan wouldn’t have much cash since he was scraping by without any identification or access to legitimate work. He wondered what Logan had been doing for money, but decided it was better not to ask. 

Once the tab was settled, Logan led Scott outside and ambled down the street without telling him where they were going. He barely acknowledge Scott as they walked, but he kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"Where are you staying?" Scott asked.

"'S not far," Logan said. He paused as they drew up to a small convenience store on the corner and pointed at the sign with his thumb. "Mind if I take a detour? I'll need something to drink if you're going to tell me… everything." 

Scott turned his head in surprise. "Again? We just left a bar." 

Logan glared at him. "Yes, again. Not a whole lot to do around here _except_ drink." 

Scott waited outside for Logan and watched as other patrons stumbled out of the bar on their way home. Quite a few of them stumbled into their cars, which was rather worrying. Scott would have intervened, but he was afraid he'd lose Logan while dealing with the small-town drunks. Hopefully there was a sobriety check somewhere on the road out of town. 

There was a good chance Logan would disappear on him if given the opportunity. He clearly didn't fully trust Scott and probably thought he was playing him somehow. Scott couldn't blame him for being suspicious after all the terrible things people had done to him over the years. Even if Logan didn't remember any of that right now, clearly it had left its marks on his subconscious. 

The bell over the door chimed as Logan came back outside carrying an entire case of beer on his shoulder. 

"Seriously?" Scott said.

Logan smiled. "Thought I should stock up seein' as I'm entertaining." 

"Right," Scott said. "Because you're such a great host." 

Logan wagged his eyebrows at him and set off down the street. Scott wondered if this was some kind of a ploy to get him drunk. Maybe Logan intended to ply him for information and then ditch him after Scott revealed everything he knew. He'd better avoid drinking anything more to stay on the safe side. 

Logan led Scott down a side street to a rambling brick building next to the railway tracks. The windows were lined with chicken wire and the front door had a handwritten sign that said, "Rooms to Let." The only light inside was a single bare bulb above the entryway which illuminated a bank of metal mailboxes. Scott counted 10 boxes, each one labeled with a letter or a number which presumably corresponded to the apartments in the building. 

Logan started down a dark hallway lined with doors as Scott followed. The wallpaper in the hall was peeling off in strips and the floor creaked under their weight with every step. Scott could hear someone coughing through the walls, but otherwise he saw no sign of any other inhabitants. Logan stopped in front of a door that had the ghost of the number “3” on it and searched in his pockets until he found the key. 

Logan's room was as squalid as the hallway. There was a double bed in an iron frame and some old, dusty wooden furniture. There wasn't much sign of Logan himself in the room, aside from a dirty undershirt lying on a wooden chair by the window. Logan knocked the undershirt to the floor and sat down. He dropped the case of beer next to him and ripped open the cardboard to take a can out. 

Once he had his beer, Logan stretched his legs out in front of him and looked up at Scott. "All right," he said, opening the can with a hiss of released pressure. "What's the story?"

"Uh, right…" Scott hesitated a moment and then sat down on the bed directly across from him. "You're a member of a vigilante strike force which protects mutants from persecution—" 

Scott explained the X-Men to Logan, giving him the same pitch he gave to prospective members. In a way, Logan _was_ a prospective member. There was no guarantee he would be coming home with Scott after this conversation was over. 

Logan listened quietly, slouched in his chair with one foot up on the case of beer. He let Scott talk and didn't interrupt except to scoff on occasion. He seemed to find it hard to believe that he was a trusted member of a team of activist mutants. 

Logan crushed his beer can with his bare hand when Scott was done and tossed it over his shoulder. "Seriously? I'm part of this crazy outfit?"

Scott shrugged. "More or less. You're not always on the team. You kind of come and go when you need to." That was less true than it used to be. Logan had been an infrequent visitor to the mansion when Scott was younger. Professor Xavier had said that Logan needed time alone to recover his sense of self, but as the years wore on he became a steadier presence in their lives. And when Scott took over as leader formerly, he'd become a regular part of the X-Men except for the occasional sabbatical. It was kind of depressing to think that Logan was back to square one again, not knowing the first thing about himself. 

"Listen, I know it's a lot to take in," Scott said, at which Logan grunted in agreement. "Come back to the mansion with me. There are other people there who know you, and it might help jog your memory to be in a familiar place." 

"Yeah, maybe," Logan said, not sounding sold on the idea. He ran his hand roughly through his hair, making the tufts on his head stand up higher than usual. It was oddly comforting to see his dumb hair style again, even if the man wearing it had no memory of who Scott was. 

"So," Logan said, clearly searching for a change in subject. "These X-Men, you're in charge?"

"Yes, I'm the field leader, but, uh," Scott cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with telling Logan he was his boss. "We have a founder, Professor Xavier, who bankrolls the team and he makes most of the, uh, logistical and political decisions." 

"Hm," Logan fished out a new beer and, to Scott's surprised, offered one to him. Scott took the can and opened it, not wanting to negate the gesture by refusing to drink. One beer wasn't going to incapacitate him. 

"We get along?" Logan asked, giving him a sly look as Scott took a tentative first sip. The beer was a weak lager, watery and cheap tasting.

"You and Professor X?" Scott asked. 

"You and me." 

"Uh..." Scott hesitated, and Logan laughed. 

"Thought so," he said, chuckling again as he took a long swig of beer. 

"You can be kind of… stubborn," Scott said, struggling to be diplomatic. "We do argue, but I know it's only—you want what's best for the team." There had been other, more personal fights, of course, but that was all water under the bridge. Jean and Logan’s almost-affair rankled a lot less since she and Scott had split up the second time. "Honestly, I'm used to it, and… having someone second guess me can be useful. Sometimes." 

Logan's smile softened and he looked almost apologetic. "I'm not great with authority." 

"You've been abused by a lot of unscrupulous people." 

Logan shrugged. "Don't remember that, but it sounds right."

Scott cleared his throat. "Also, this isn't completely unprecedented. It’s not the first time you've had… memory problems. This kind of happens to you a lot."

Logan sat up from his slouch at that. "What do you mean?"

"You, uh, when I first met you, you had total amnesia about your life up to that point."

"Seriously?" Logan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so, but you were kind of—experimented on. There was this government weapons program using mutants—"

" _Weapons?_ " Logan said. He turned away, his expression getting glassy-eyed like maybe Scott's words had triggered something in his head. 

"Yes, you were one of them," Scott said. "Weapon X. They brainwashed you. "

"Shit," Logan hit his hand on his thigh. "That's why those snoops were after me!"

"Snoops?"

Logan nodded, waving a hand distractedly. "Some guys up in Oregon. I was working at a logging camp and they showed up out of the blue asking questions. I took off before finding out what they wanted." 

"Were they military?" 

Logan shrugged. "Could have been, hard to say. I didn't exactly ask for their business cards." 

Scott nodded. "People have come after you before, military scientists and others involved in the program that—made you. To be honest, a lot of that history is hazy. We don't know a whole lot about where you came from or what happened to you before then."

"Figures," Logan said. He rubbed at his forehead, looking tired and frustrated. "Maybe that's why… I'm not exactly sure how I ended up out here. First thing I remember was Washington—I was in the mountains, near the border. I thought someone was following me but... I don't know. It's like something out of a paranoid dream."

"Hm." Scott frowned. "You were taking some time off when you disappeared. Maybe you got kidnapped by someone or stumbled into something up here."

"Maybe," Logan said darkly. "Or maybe I was poking around looking for these Weapon X guys."

"That could be. Once I get you sorted out, we'll come back with the team and investigate. See if we can figure out what you were running from."

"I take it I didn't tell anyone where I was going?" 

"No," Scott admitted. "But that's not unusual." 

Logan snorted. "Right." 

Scott smiled and reached out tentatively to touch his shoulder. "See, you're still the same guy. Memories or no memories."

"Not sure if that's a good thing," Logan grumbled, but he looked more relaxed as he sat back in his chair. Talking had eased some of his tension, and Scott felt more confident that he could convince Logan to come home with him. 

"Uh, do you have a bathroom?" Scott asked, glancing around the room. 

Logan nodded toward door they had come in from. "End of the hall, on the right. It's shared." 

"Oh."

The bathroom was about as gross as you'd expect from a shared toilet in a rundown rooming house. Scott washed his hands thoroughly, although it probably didn't do him much good after he touched the doorknob on the way out. 

Back in the room, he found Logan sitting on the bed staring at the wall. He’d stripped down to his undershirt but still had his boots on, his legs crossed one over the other and a thoughtful expression on his face. The case of beer was sitting on the floor next to the bed and he’d somehow managed to finish off two more cans while Scott was in the bathroom. 

Scott stood awkwardly at the door, not sure what to say next. He should probably leave and let Logan process everything. They could meet up again in the morning, assuming Logan didn't decide to take off. "Uh, maybe I should—" 

"I got a question," Logan said, interrupting before Scott could make his excuses. "Do I have a girl?"

"Huh?" 

"A special someone," Logan said, turning to look at him and smirking a little. "Or whatever."

"...not really, no," Scott said. Even after Jean and Scott had broken up for good, she and Logan had never attempted a relationship. Scott assumed that Logan was too much of a loner to actually maintain a real partnership. He wanted what he couldn't have, but he was realistic enough to know why he couldn't have it. Scott, on the other hand, had realized that he could live with losing Jean as his girlfriend if that meant getting to keep her as his best friend. 

Logan took the news that he was single in stride, not looking very surprised. "What about you?"

"Huh?" Scott blinked and looked at Logan, who looked innocently back at him. "No, what? Why?" 

Logan shrugged and looked down at his beer. "No reason. I thought you were trying to pick me up earlier at the bar." 

" _What?_ " Scott thought back on the past few hours and recalled following Logan into the bathroom with horror. "Oh my god." 

Logan laughed. "Guess not." He snorted at Scott's expression and leaned over the edge of the bed. "Want another beer?" 

Scott took a step toward the door. "I should probably—" 

"Don't go, I shouldn't have said anything." Logan laughed and tossed a beer to him. "Come on, help me finish these. I haven't had anyone to talk to in weeks. It’s damned lonely when you don't even know yourself." 

Scott hesitated but sat down on the edge of the bed. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. Earlier, he’d scouted out a budget motel about thirty miles away off the main highway, but he hadn't made a reservation. 

Logan finished off another beer and tossed the can aside. "So, who else is on this team? Who are the X-Men?"

"Oh, well, there's Storm, Ororo, she's great. You like her—"

Scott sketched out each full and part-time member of the team, trying to give Logan a sense of who they all were and how they all worked together. He wasn't sure if much of it was sticking. Logan's expression was torn, like he was eager for details of his former life, but disappointed each time he failed to remember the people Scott was describing. 

Eventually Logan stopped him, interrupting to ask, "Wait, exactly how long has this thing been going on for?"

"The X-Men? Oh, years, but we started out a lot smaller."

Logan frowned. "Was I there? At the beginning?"

"No, well, you didn't fully join up until recently, but I first met you in the '80s… like 1983? Around then."

"'83?" Logan repeated, looking shocked. "I've known you for _twenty years?_ " 

"Um, more or less, but our first meeting was… brief. We didn't talk much." Logan specifically hadn’t spoken at all. "You know you're old right?"

Logan gave him a look like he was trying to think of an insult in response. "Excuse me?"

Scott coughed. "Sorry, not old, you don't _look_ old—I mean, you age slowly. When I met you, you looked—" Scott motioned toward Logan, waving to indicate his face and his chest and his ridiculous muscly arms. "Exactly like you do now. And that was twenty years ago." 

Logan sat back, stunned, and Scott immediately regretted saying anything. "How old am I?"

"I… don't know. I don't think anyone does. You had amnesia, remember, the first time we found you—" 

Logan tilted his head back so it was resting against the wall behind the bed. "Fuuuuck." 

"Yeah," Scott said, unhelpfully. 

Logan went quiet for a bit while Scott sat next to him and sipped his warm beer. His back was starting to twinge, so Scott shifted over to sit against the headboard next to Logan. He kept his legs turned to the side so his shoes weren't actually resting on the covers. 

Logan reached past Scott to help himself to another beer, brushing over Scott's thighs in the process. He used one claw to poke a hole in the bottom of the can so he could shotgun it in a matter of seconds. Scott raised his eyebrows at him, but Logan only grunted and wiped his mouth. 

"You should have bought something stronger if you wanted to get drunk," Scott said. 

Logan crushed the empty can and reached for another. "A poor workm'n blames ‘is tools."

There was a slight slur to his words, but he might have been playing it up on purpose. Logan tended to act drunker than he actually was since it was so hard for him to stay intoxicated. Scott could never figure out if it was a weird kind of bravado on his part, or if it was an unconscious hold over from spending so many years pretending not to be a mutant.

Logan worked with determination to finish off the rest of the beers. Scott had lost track of how many he'd had himself, but it couldn't be more than three. Or four? He still had an open can in his hand, but he didn't think he could finish it. He was definitely feeling the alcohol now in any event. He wished he’d had something to eat back at the bar. There was no way it would be safe for him to drive now, which meant he was stuck spending the night in Logan's room. Scott glanced around and wished that there was a more comfortable chair. He could sleep on the floor in a pinch, even if it looked like it hadn't been swept since the Nixon administration. 

Scott's head was spinning a little, so he sank down until he was lying on his back with his head on Logan's pillow. Maybe Logan would be willing to share. 

Logan had his eyes closed like he might be about to pass out anyway. He groaned and slumped onto his side to hang his head over the edge of the bed. Scott wondered if he was going to have to drag Logan down the hall to the bathroom to throw up. 

Logan coughed, making Scott tense up expecting him to vomit, but instead he let out a loud belch. He rolled over and shook his head, seemingly shaking off his stupor. He laid down on the pillow next to Scott and sighed comfortably. "'Preciate you explaining all this, Slim," he said. 

Scott let the nickname pass by without comment, although it raised his hopes that Logan still had his memories hidden somewhere in his subconscious. "Of course," he said. "You're my friend, I wouldn't abandon you in Idaho with amnesia.”

Logan’s face was so close that it was somewhat hard to focus on him. Scott closed one eye and then another in an effort to clear his vision. 

Logan smiled and gave Scott a lazy look. "Hey, here's another question… what about me and you?" 

Scott frowned and blinked a few times until his eyes managed to focus again. "What about us?" 

"We ever get together?" 

"What do you— _What?_ No!" Scott could feel his face getting hot and hoped it just looked like he was flushed from the alcohol. "I swear, at the bar, I didn't mean to come across like—I'm really not good at this kind of thing. I mean, not _this_ but _that._ " 

Logan smiled. "I noticed." 

“What do you mean you—"

"I'm coming onto you," Logan said. 

Scott’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he found himself once again reevaluating the past few hours of conversation. A little thrill went up his spine and now he was _definitely_ blushing if he hasn’t been before. It might be the beer talking, but fooling around with Logan suddenly sounded like a downright good idea—except... "Uh, Logan, the thing is, you don't really _like_ me." 

"I like you right now," Logan said like he was making a reasonable point. He reached out and took Scott's beer out of his hand and deposited it safely on the floor. 

"You only just met me," Scott argued. "Once you get your memories back you'll remember and—you don't _like_ me." 

"Maybe I'll never get them back," Logan said, sitting up. "Or, who knows, maybe sleeping with you will help jar them loose." 

Scott thought about that for a moment and frowned. "I don't think having sex helps with amnesia."

Logan took hold of Scott's shirt and used it to pull him into a sitting position next to him. "But you're not a doctor, are you?" 

Scott’s head swam, maybe from being drunk or maybe from being casually manhandled by Logan. "No, neither are you.” 

Logan shrugged. "Well, it can't _hurt_.” He put his hand behind Scott's head, cradling the back of his neck, and tilted his face to line up their mouths. Scott closed his eyes as Logan moved in and couldn't help a soft gasp as their lips met. This was a very terrible idea and probably a violation of Logan, _his friend,_ who wasn't in his right mind. Scott should really pull away, but he found himself kissing back instead. 

It took a few awkward misplaced kisses until they found a rhythm and figured out how to fit their mouths together. Scott was still adjusting to kissing someone with facial hair when Logan slipped his tongue into his mouth and startled Scott so badly that he bit down. Scott started to panic that he was screwing everything up, but Logan kept his hands around his face and held him in place until their lips and tongues were sliding together in the perfect balance of give and take, push and pull. 

Logan broke away so they could both catch their breath but kept pressing kisses over Scott's lips and along his cheek. Scott was holding onto Logan's arms, marveling at the strength of his muscles and the tickling feel of his body hair. He tried to get enough leverage to push Logan down onto his back, but instead Logan wrestled him onto his side so they were lying face to face. 

Logan brought his arm up so Scott could rest his head on his shoulder and they stayed like that, exchanging kisses as their hands wandered over each other's sides. It made Scott feel a bit like a teenager again, lying nervously on Jean's bed while they made out after curfew. Scott pulled up the bottom of Logan's shirt so he could feel the heat of his bare skin, but otherwise they stayed clothed. It was all strangely innocent until Logan took Scott's wrist in a loose grasp and pulled his hand down to press against the front of his jeans. 

Scott let his hand be guided and traced the outline of Logan's erection through the thick denim. It was weird feeling someone else's hardon, but thrilling too, especially when Logan hissed in a breath and mumbled " _nice_ " against Scott's neck. 

Logan shifted back slightly and reached down to open up his jeans so he could get his cock out and Scott could touch him properly. Scott wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but it was hard to mess up a handjob. Logan was very appreciative anyway, running his hand up and down Scott's arm as he worked and saying things like "that's it, feels good" and "been too long." 

Scott would have pointed out that Logan had _no idea_ how long it had been since he last had sex, but it seemed rude to bring up his amnesia at the moment. Instead he listened to Logan's responses and repeated anything that made his breath hitch in his throat. Before long, Logan was pressing his forehead hard against Scott's shoulder and coming all over the coverlet. Scott made a face and mouthed a silent apology to the next occupant of the room. 

Logan was in a predictably good mood after he came, kissing Scott again and wrestling him over onto his back on the bed. "Fuck, I needed that. Is there anything you want?"

Scott had some half-formed ideas, but he had never been good at asking for things in bed. Instead he said, "Can you take your shirt off?"

Logan smirked and sat up to wrestle his shirt up over his head, revealing rippling muscles dusted with dark hair. He’d tucked his cock away but his jeans were still unzipped, putting on display the trail of hair under his navel and the angled lines that ran from his hipbones down toward his groin.

Scott trailed his hands up Logan's sides to feel his chest expanding as he breathed and his heart beating fast under his ribs. Scott had always admired Logan's physique; there was a naturalness to his body that Scott envied compared to how much he had to work at maintaining his own. You got the feeling that Logan was born covered in muscles and chest hair and barely put any thought into how he looked. His body was how it was and he inhabited it with complete comfort. 

Not that Logan wasn't aware of his effect on people. Right now he was clearly enjoying having Scott staring up at him slack jawed with desire. Logan had one knee between Scott's legs and he pressed forward until his thigh was rubbing up against his erection. Scott gasped and clutched at Logan's arms, suddenly desperate for his touch. 

"Take your pants off," Logan said. "I want to see your dick." 

Scott swallowed and scrambled to do as he asked. He kicked his shoes off and pushed his jeans and boxers down in a rush. Logan helped Scott out of his shirt and then suddenly he was naked in the bed with Logan kneeling between his legs. Scott paused, overwhelmed with how strange this all was and wondering how he had ended up here. This was _not_ how he expected to spend the night in rural Idaho. Thankfully, Scott didn't have much time for thought because Logan leaned down and licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. 

"Oh my god," Scott said. Logan smirked at him and wrapped his lips around the head. He sucked there for a moment and then leaned down to take Scott inside of his mouth, his head moving with an easy bob. 

Scott's muscles felt like liquid, no longer capable of holding him up as he collapsed limp onto the bed and watched Logan blow him. This was really, _really_ not how Scott expected any of this to go, but damn if he wasn't okay with it right this moment. 

Scott closed his eyes and went with it, enjoying the feeling of Logan's hot mouth around his cock. Logan's stubble was rubbing against Scott's thighs with each bob of his head, and Scott realized he would have beard burn when this was over. For some reason, that was the thing that pushed him over the edge, thinking about how tomorrow morning he would see his skin rubbed raw and remember that Logan had done this to him. 

Logan pulled away as Scott started to come and used his hand to finish him off. He sat with his head propped up next to Scott's hip and idly licked his fingers clean while Scott caught his breath and came down from his orgasm. 

Scott watched Logan suck on his index finger absentmindedly and found himself wondering once again how this had happened. Did he seriously get drunk and have sex with Logan in Idaho? Did he seriously have sex with Logan _while he had amnesia and only a vague idea of who Scott was?_

Logan must have realized Scott was overthinking things, because he lay down next to him and pulled him into a kiss. "Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," Scott said. "No—great, that was great. I can't believe we did that." 

Logan smiled and kissed his temple. "Maybe we should have done it before now."

"Oh, I don't know about that…" Scott said, feeling the edge of panic touching him again. 

Logan made a shushing sound and reached around Scott to turn down the coverlet. Scott moved so he could get the under the blankets and tried not to think about how long ago the sheets had probably been washed. While Scott got situated, Logan got up to change into a pair of boxers and switch off the light. When he climbed back into bed, he spooned up against Scott's back with his arm around his waist and their legs brushing together. Within minutes Logan was snoring softly in Scott's ear. 

Scott stayed awake to stew in his thoughts for a little longer, but his body felt heavy with the effects of alcohol and post-orgasmic haze. Eventually, he fell asleep in spite of himself and spent a dreamless night nestled up against Logan. 

Scott woke up alone in bed with a pounding headache and a terrible taste in his mouth. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was, and once he did he wondered if the entire night had been some kind of hallucination. Maybe he hadn't slept with Logan at all, but with some Idahoan lumberjack who happened to look like him. 

This fantasy was quickly disproven when Logan returned to the room with a towel around his waist fresh from the shower. He was humming to himself and looked vigorous and happy, unlike Scott who wouldn't mind dying at the moment.

"Mornin’, Scott," Logan said cheerfully as he pulled clothes from the dresser. 

"I hate you and your stupid genes," Scott said. 

Logan held up a pair of blue jeans in confusion. "What's wrong with 'em?"

"No, not—" Scott waved his hand. "Your x-gene, your stupid healing factor."

Logan laughed. "Come on, get up, don't you want to take me home and introduce me to your X-Men?"

Scott raised his head, feeling his heart clench in his chest, but not wanting to get his hopes up. "You really want to come back with me?"

Logan shrugged on a green plaid shirt and started buttoning it up. "Sure, why wouldn't I? Not like I have anything keeping me around _here_."

Scott smiled with relief. "Oh, I wasn't sure if you would. I know it's going to be weird—everyone knowing who you are and you not knowing any of them." 

Logan sat down on the bed and started lacing up his boots. "I'm not exactly looking forward to that part but… well, I like you, so I figure I owe you at least an attempt at seeing how this works out."

For the first time, Scott found himself hoping that maybe Logan _wouldn't_ get his memory back. But that was a cruel thought so he crushed it down as soon as it occurred to him. The important thing was getting Logan the help he needed, not Scott getting another chance to sleep with him. "Okay, good. Let me get dressed and I'll call in—uh, do you have a toothbrush I could borrow?"

Logan laughed. "What do you think?" 

"Ugh," Scott said. "We were _kissing_ , you can't seriously have gone _weeks_ without brushing your teeth—"

Thankfully, Logan must have been putting him on, because he only laughed harder and produced a toothbrush from a drawer somewhere. Scott took it from him with immense relief.


	3. Chapter 3

2023

Scott noticed that Logan was acting weird, of course, but he didn't realize that anything was actually _wrong_ with him until Charles asked him to come by his office after lunch.

"What's up?" Scott asked, knocking on the door and glancing at his watch. "I’m supervising study hall in five minutes, so make it quick." 

Charles smiled at him and motioned for Scott to enter the room. Logan was sitting on one of the leather chairs across from Charles' desk and he turned to stare at Scott. He had the same strange look he had this morning, like it had been years since he had seen Scott and he could hardly believe he was here now.

"Scott, sit down," Charles said. "I took the liberty of asking Hank to act as a substitute for your study hall."

"Oh," Scott said, lowering himself into a seat. "Is something wrong?"

"Not precisely," Charles said. "There's been a—development. With Logan."

Scott glanced over at Logan, who was still staring at him like a drowning man looking at his rescue ship. It was more than a little disconcerting. "Uh huh?" 

"Do you remember when I told you about 1973? The assassination attempt, and how Hank and I worked to prevent it?"

"Sure," Scott said. "That's when you stopped the Sentinel program and met an alternative version of—"

Scott stopped and looked at Logan. His mind had begun to put the pieces together, but he didn't fully register what it meant until Charles said, "Yes, that's right, Scott. May I introduce you to that same man, Logan, who saved us all from certain death at the hands of the Sentinels, and overwrote his own future in the process." 

There was more explanation after that, but Scott couldn’t really pay attention. He was too busy turning over in his mind what this meant. Logan's consciousness had gone back in time to 1973, and when his actions there rewrote the timeline, he snapped back to where he came from and ended up in—

"2023," Charles said. "That is, our own present time, today." 

"That means… you're not really our Logan, are you?" Scott said slowly. "You remember the other timeline. The bad one where everything went wrong and mutants were nearly wiped out."

Logan swallowed. "Yes."

"So you have no recent memories of living in the mansion or working at the school or—I guess anything since the timelines diverged." 

Logan nodded, seemingly unable to speak.

"That's right, Scott," Charles said. "Naturally it's been very disorienting for Logan. Would you mind staying with him while I go to my 2:15 class? You can fill him in on some more of the recent past, and I'm sure the two of you have a lot to talk about."

Scott nodded and Charles departed with a grateful smile to Scott and a comforting pat on Logan's shoulder. 

"What did he mean by that?" Logan asked as soon as he was gone. 

"Oh," Scott shrugged. "He's probably thinks he's being helpful."

"Helpful?"

"Leaving us alone since we haven't been… talking much. Lately."

Logan squinted at him in confusion. " _We_ haven't—? Oh, is that weird?"

"Not necessarily, but it's—" Scott broke off, realizing he had no idea where Logan stood with him anymore. "Did we, um... in your timeline, did we ever date?"

Logan's eyes widened and he stared at Scott like he was completely nuts. "What."

Scott did his best to hide his wince. "I guess not."

"You can't be—are we a _couple?_ " 

Scott smiled and tried to sound casual, like raking over the ashes of their past relationship wasn't painful. "Not really. It was kind of an on-again, off-again thing. More off than on." 

Logan blinked and looked away. "Wow, that's… no offense, but that's really weird." 

"Don't worry about it," Scott said. "It's over with now anyway." Especially now that Logan was—gone. Replaced. Overwritten by a dimension hopping interloper. _For the remainder of this performance, the part of Wolverine will be played by an alternative version from a dystopian timeline._

"I'm sorry." Logan put his hand to his face and closed his eyes. "I feel like… there was this other _me_ and now I'm this imposter taking over his life." 

Scott forced a smile, pretending he wasn't just thinking the same thing. Maybe it would be better this way; easier to see Logan around the mansion and not feel all that history hanging in the air between them. "It's okay, really, I’m sure you're still the same guy deep down."

"No, Slim, I'm telling you— _I'm not that person._ You and me… I don't know what happened in this timeline, but in mine we weren't exactly close." Logan touched the back of his neck and looked away. "We spent a lot of time at odds with each other." 

"We don't always get along in this one either." Scott said. "Didn't." The past tense hurt; a stab of grief stealing his breath away. 

"I'm not sure it was the same…" Logan said. "I tried to steal your girl—Jean." 

Scott couldn't help a burst of startled laughter. "Oh god, did Jean and I stay together in your timeline?" 

"Yeah, but—" Logan broke off, looking uncomfortable again. "I mean, it didn't exactly end pretty." 

Scott grimaced. "Yeah, I bet it didn't." 

"She killed you," Logan blurted out.

Scott blanched in surprise and Logan grimaced like he regretted saying it. "It wasn't really her, there was this—force, this other personality."

"The Phoenix?" 

"Uh, yeah, I guess you guys went through that too?"

"Yes, but it sounds like it went better in this timeline."

"I would say so." Logan smiled, his eyes taking on that faraway look of awe again. It was like he was looking at an echo of another person instead of Scott himself—the ghost of the other Scott Summers who died young at the hands of his own girlfriend. "This place… it's like a dream of what we wanted but could never quite get right." 

"Was it… that bad?" Scott asked. "Where you came from?"

"Yeah," Logan said, and looked away. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Scott cleared his throat and awkwardly searched for a change in subject. "If you want, uh, I could show you around?"

Logan shook his head. "You don't have to do that, I'm sure I can figure it out." He chuckled, self deprecating and a little bit broken. "I _have_ lived here before. Just not recently."

"Not _here_ , not exactly," Scott said. "It's okay, I want to help. Honestly, I have a lot of experience helping you start over."

"Huh?" Logan said, looking at him in confusion. 

"You've kind of…" Scott cleared his throat. "Had some trouble with amnesia. In this timeline." 

"You mean like, after Weapon X…?"

"Yes, but also a few decades later. You had a recurrence—total amnesia, forgot who the X-Men were and everything. I found you in Idaho calling yourself Jim."

"Oh," Logan said, looking uncomfortable. Scott wondered if something similar had ever happened to him in his timeline. 

"It's not really the same but…" Scott forced a smile. "Well, it's not the first time I knew you when you couldn't remember anything about me."

"I do remember you, Scott," Logan said, looking more focused this time, like he was actually seeing Scott and not someone else with his face. "Just not— _you_ you." 

Scott nodded. "Right."

Logan sighed. "So, what did I do the last time this happened to me?"

Scott shrugged. "I told you about the X-Men and you came back with me to the mansion. You had memory issues for a few months, but Professor X worked with you and you got some of it back."

"Only some of it?"

"I think a lot was kind of hazy, but you were good at faking like you remembered."

Logan snorted and looked away. "Yeah, I've done that before. I guess I'll have to fake it again."

"I can help you with that," Scott said.

"Okay…" Logan took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "So tell me about your X-Men. What do you all do here? Who am I?"

Scott smiled. "You're a member of a vigilante strike force which protects mutants from persecution—" 

**Author's Note:**

> Nepenthe (noun) ne·pen·the \ nə-ˈpen(t)-thē \ "that which chases away sorrow":  
> 1\. A fictional drug of forgetfulness mentioned in Homer's Odyssey as bringing relief from anxiety or grief; hence, any drug or substance seen as bringing welcome forgetfulness or relief.
> 
> This started with the prompt "Post-movies, Scott feels responsible to find a lost amnesiac Logan" (a classic Scott/Logan trope <3) and then got complicated once I started thinking about what "post-movies" even means after DOFP messed with the timeline. I hope you enjoyed it, NaughtyAnne. Your prompts were so good I had a hard time deciding which to write.


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